


Once A Queen, Always A Queen

by NoctusFury



Series: Narnia Gift Exchange [2]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia (books)
Genre: 1943 America, Angst with a Happy Ending, Book/Movie: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Canon - Book, Canon - Book & Movie Combination, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Canon Related, Canon Universe, Chronicles of Narnia References, Comfort, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, During Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, FanFiction.Net, Fanfiction, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Get Your Snacks and Drinks, Gift Exchange, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired By Tumblr, Light Angst, Long Shot, Longing for Narnia, Memories, Mentioned Golden Age, Mentioned Narnia, Narnia, Narnia Gift Exchange Winter 2020, Narnia Misses Her Monarchs, Narnia Personification, Narrator Introduction, One Shot, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Susan Pevensie, Partying, Personification, Peter Pevensie is a Good Brother, Pevensies in America, Pining, Post-Narnia, Reminiscing, Sibling Bonding, Siblings, Susan Pevensie Deserved Better, Susan Pevensie Needs a Hug, Susan Pevensie-centric, The Moment We Never Got to See, Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:27:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29816679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoctusFury/pseuds/NoctusFury
Summary: (Set during VOTDT) Susan is getting ready for a party during her stay in America. However, as she's preparing, it stirs up memories of the past in another world — a world she both longs to return to and a world of which to forget entirely. Luckily though, her elder brother Peter is there to help.G-rated content and language. (Not Pevencest.)
Relationships: Aslan & Susan Pevensie (mentioned), Peter Pevensie & Narnia, Peter Pevensie & Susan Pevensie, Peter Pevensie & Susan Pevensie & Edmund Pevensie & Lucy Pevensie (mentioned), Susan Pevensie & Narnia
Series: Narnia Gift Exchange [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2191776
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Once A Queen, Always A Queen

**Author's Note:**

> Well met, my fellow Narnians! Here's another Narnia fanfic, courtesy of the Narnia Exchange event. Sorry I haven't been very active or been posting much Narnia content, but I've been busy with other Fandoms, and I've had the anime bug for the past several months and hasn't let me go yet. But I AM posting some content - a little at a time, so it's something.
> 
> Anyway, the funny thing was that I never expected this fanfic to get to 4.5k words at all. It just happened on its own. I was expecting it to be 2.5k like my Reepicheep fanfic, but I was floored when I discovered it didn't. This is officially my largest one-shot so far! I kinda finished this fanfic last-minute and was a little late in posting this in time, but the admins were kind and allowed me some extra time to finish this.
> 
> Anyway, I wanted to do something for Susan for a good while now, but never had the chance. But the person I was making this for for the Exchange had Peter/Susan as one of their platonic pairings, so I decided to go with that. And viola! And I was also tired of people trash-talking both Lewis and Susan due to her love for parties without really looking at the deeper truth behind her actions. And, being a psychologist's son, it challenged me to look and investigate Susan's behavior and really figure out why she did what she did. And this fanfic is essentially my take and opinion of why she eventually stops believing in Narnia.
> 
> Fun Fact: Lewis, before his death, was about to write a sequel that focused on Susan's redemption and reaffirming her faith in Narnia's existence. I was so bummed when I heard that he died before it could've been written and published. ;-;
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this fanfic, and please leave a kudos and/or a review and tell me what you think. I've never written a fanfic with Peter and Susan before, nor wrote in their POV, so this was a new experience. I hope I was on-par with their characterizations.
> 
> For Narnia and For Aslan!
> 
> — Noctus Fury

Once there was a Queen who was said to be of legendary beauty — like that of her predecessor Queen Swanwhite the First many, many centuries before, before Jadis invaded Narnia and succumbed it into a Hundred Years of Winter. The Legends even claimed that this Queen was the reincarnated Swanwhite herself! And like the Queen of Old, this Queen was regal, kind, and gentle; though, unlike her predecessor, she had a fiery spirit hidden within that belayed her gentle nature. Even went to battle a few times in the beginning years of their reign during the Golden Years.

Such was her enchantment, such was her status, and such was her beauty, that nobles and kings and princes came far and wide from every nation in the world seeking her hand; their passions peaking to the point of starting wars to win her hand (though how _anyone_ thought that to be flattering or attractive was beyond anyone's guess).

Such were the legends of the Queen Susan — called the Gentle — of Narnia.

And where is this fabled Queen now, pray tell?

No longer does she dwell in Narnia. No longer does she reside in Cair Paravel, with her royal siblings. No longer she rule as Queen of that magical land, for her time in Narnia had come to an end.

So where does she dwell, then? In Aslan's Country?

Well, not quite. She is, in fact, still alive, but living in a different world, in a different country, in a different city. Wearing different clothes, at a different time, in a different age.

She was younger, too; not quite an adult, but close to being one — a mini-adult. Even for the tender age of sixteen, she looked like a woman in her early 20s, and mature for her age, making her seem like a woman twice her age.

In this world, this Queen of Old is known by this name: Susan Pevensie, resident of London, England, in the year 1943 — and her world was in the middle of a long and terrible war. This forced her parents, Mrs. Pevensie and the newly-returned Mr. Pevensie, to visit a relative at the British Embassy in America. And they took their two eldest, Peter Pevensie and herself with them, leaving their two younger siblings, Edmund and Lucy behind with relatives.

And here was Susan Pevensie, in Miami, Florida, prepping herself for a party in the privacy of her guest room. She was humming a tune (a song from her days in Narnia) as she ran her brush along her dark hair, and even though she was facing herself in the mirror, her eyes were glazed over, deep in thought.

It had been years — two on Earth, 1,300-something years in Narnian time — since they had last been in Narnia. Not the Narnia that they had been so rudely reintroduced to the second time, but _their_ Narnia — the Narnia that _they_ knew that had _magic_ and _life_ and _peace_ and _prosperity_. The Narnia that had a _thriving_ population and a strong army and a navy and had never been invaded or defeated by any person or nation since the days of Jadis the White.

The Narnia that she and her siblings had ruled for fifteen years (and had hoped to continue ruling for many years after) that had been so forcefully taken from them and replaced with a Narnia they didn't even know anymore — wild, untamed, savage, unfamiliar, unwelcoming, dangerous, quiet, barren. And very much changed.

It was no longer the Narnia they knew; the REAL Narnia left with them.

And with it, any chance of becoming Queen once more… vanished.

_Once a King or Queen of Narnia, always a King or Queen._

Those had been Aslan's words.

A wry smile graced Susan's features as she combed her hair, appreciating the irony that didn't escape her. As she put her brush down and began braiding her hair, her eyes clouded once more in thought.

She had once a Queen — a Queen of Narnia. Queen Susan the Gentle.

But no more.

No, the young woman staring back at Susan was no Queen at all, but an imposter — a pale imitation of the vision she used to be. Of the Queen she once was, in possession of a title that had been cruelly wrested from her.

She missed the days when she could take strolls along the hewn stone hallways… along the pathways… and the vibrant, lush gardens, feeling the stones and the grass _sing_ beneath her feet, pulsing and vibrating with gaiety and life. To see the flowers and trees swaying to the sweet whistles and gentle caresses of the sea wind, content and blissful. To hear the casual chattering and snippets of conversations among the Animals of Narnia as she made her rounds through the castle grounds, giving her their various forms of greetings and utterances of respect according to their species as they were made known of her presence. True to her title, she enjoyed talking with them and the other Narnians; but she particularly enjoyed her time with the various Animals throughout the castle and Narnia. They were so filled with innocence and trust and life that she couldn't help but smile fondly at them — she smiles, even now, a world and millennia away, as she travels and reminisces through old and time-touched memories.

_Oh, to go back and experience it once more… to feel it once more…_

A frown graces her features, a flash of pain in her eyes, before scoffing and shaking her head, trying to rid of her mind of longings already thwarted. It was no use dwelling on them anymore.

At least, that's what she kept telling herself. But the longing for what once was was so potent that she could taste the bitterness in the back of her throat. A wet sensation broke her from her thoughts as she looked at her hand quizzically. Her hand had a few small droplets on them. _What are these—_

_Oh…_

Susan returned her gaze to the mirror to find that she was crying. Two tears were rolling down her cheeks, slightly disfiguring the makeup she had only recently applied. And like a leaking dam, more began their descent.

"No… no, not now. I have a party to get to soon." she groaned as she dried her tears. Unfortunately, logic rarely prevails over feelings when in emotionally-charged situations… not unless someone was amply determined.

And Susan was _determined_ to go to the party and have a good time with Peter and their parents.

"Susan?" _Speak of the devil._

Susan turned around to see a worried Peter in a fine-looking tuxedo that she assumed he borrowed from their uncle-in-law, Andrew Perry, who worked in the U.S. War Department. (He was the one who was throwing the party at his villa.) With his immaculate suit, his hair neatly combed, and with the stature and air that he took, he looked every inch a King — even when he was no longer one.

Susan tried to compose herself and gave a weak smile. "Oh, hello, Pete. Sorry, still trying to finish my confounded makeup. Got it all smudged. Tell Aunt Harriet that I'll be down there shortly."

Peter wasn't detoured in the slightest. "Are you alright? I heard you crying when I came in."

The smile froze on her face. "Crying? Why on Earth would I be crying? I was giggling. I'm very much looking forward to the gala that Uncle Andrew's hosting tonight." she assured him, putting on a winning smile.

But the look in his eyes as he gazed at her reminded Susan that no matter what he looked like, Peter was still Peter — her beloved brother and close confidante. She could never hide things from him with full success.

Susan nodded numbly. Peter sighed, his expression turning sorrowful, as he made his way to his sister and gave her a hug from behind. She surrendered to his gesture and melted against him, leaning back as much as she could on the chair.

Peter looked at her reflection in the mirror, carbon copies staring right back at them. "I miss Narnia, too."

Susan's eyes widened and snapped to look at her brother. "How did you—"

Peter gave her a side glance. "I'm your brother, remember. And you're not the only one who's thinking about Narnia." he gave her a teasing half-smile and she huffed. "Besides, we're about to go to a party and getting dressed up; I just figured that would naturally bring back memories for the both of us — as they do now."

Susan looked away from him. "You're perceptive… as always. And I thought Edmund was bad." but she was smiling, if only slightly.

Peter breathed a chuckle. "Well, since Ed isn't here, it is my duty as High King to do what I can in his stead."

Another huff — this time in annoyance. "Stop that."

"Stop what?" he asked her, giving her a puzzled look.

"You _do_ know that we're no longer Kings and Queens now, right? We're not _in_ Narnia anymore! We'll never _be_ in Narnia anymore! So stop acting like you're still a king! You're not one in this world, Peter!"

"Don't you remember what Aslan said? Once a King—"

"I don't give a fig about what Aslan said, Peter! He _lied_! He said we couldn't come back to Narnia anymore! He took us away from Narnia! So we are now in our own world, without comfortable clothes, without talking Animals; without battles, or armour, or weapons; nor dancing in balls, or wooing or being wooed by handsome princes or fair maidens — no more being Monarchs of _anyone or anything!_ "

Peter sat there, stunned, as Susan vented out her frustrations. Realization awoke in his blue eyes as he stared down at her, as if connecting something.

"You're hurt." the simple, matter-of-fact way he said those words both relieved her and vexed her. But… it was as if he sympathized with her. Like he himself had gone through it himself. "You feel betrayed by those whom you trusted irrevocably. Guilty, because you felt like you betrayed those whom trusted _us_ when we disappeared — even though it was through no fault of our own; there was no way we could've known it, nor could've prevented it. Still, you continue to doubt and blame yourself, cursing the day that you and your siblings ever deigned to entertain the idea of hunting the White Stag, or following Lucy back into that Wardrobe, wishing that we had never laid eyes on it and just returned to Cair Paravel."

Susan's eyes widened as Peter was laying bear everything that had been festering in her thoughts — as if he had manifested them himself.

But Peter Pevensie was far from done: "You feel pain, because it was a home away from home — literally a world away from war and violence, hate and pain. A home that we had built with our own hands, created a world that anyone and everyone could live in, and made a family out of the people and friends that we had come to know. And then suddenly left them all without a word, and then return to that same world, only to discover that the home we had built up for ourselves — the world that we had created with all of our dear friends — no longer exists, and had been replaced by a wilder and dangerous Narnia that we had never known or thought capable of existing. It was a shock and a travesty to witness. And the pain worsens when you realize that the Narnia — with your home and your friends — that you knew… was gone.

"And then that pain manifests into anger. Because how could this have happened? How could this have been allowed? Surely this has been a mistake! Why can't things have been reversed? Why couldn't we have stayed? Was there any time to do anything about it? _Could_ anything have been done? And then you're just angry — angry that you weren't there, angry that everything and everyone whom you loved was no more, furious that an enemy had laid claim to Narnia and persecuted her people for centuries unchecked without you being there, incensed that the One who made you a Monarch with your siblings chose another — born from the very people who persecuted and slaughtered your own — to succeed you as this New Narnia's ruler, even though you always thought Narnia to be yours alone — that you assumed that, naturally, you'll return to being to Narnia permanently and being their Rulers again, only to have even that taken away from you. So then all your left with is the emptiness of 'why am I even here, then, if not to resume our rightful place?' And then that burning betrayal of being replaced, that you think that the One Whom you looked up to almost as a father sees you as replaceable, unwanted, and having failed your job. And that desperation at having to prove yourself and to everyone that you were meant to stay, that you should be Ruler of Narnia again, not this reformed child of the enemy who had hurt the very people he's meant to rule over."

At this point, it was beginning to sound like he was talking more about himself than Susan's own misgivings (since she, herself, never had that problem), but realized that perhaps Peter was opening his heart to her to show her that he, himself, had went through that same pain, back when they had returned to Narnia the second time. So she didn't say anything and let him continue. (Her education as a Queen taught her _that_ much.)

"And then, when all's said and done, you feel nothing but grief — when you finally realize that, when it comes down to it, you no longer _want_ to be Ruler of this New Narnia, with its new residents and new enemies and stepping into unknown territory. When, at last, you begin to understand:

"You were never home. That _this_ Narnia will never _be_ your home. That maybe Aslan made the right choice in picking Caspian as King over this vastly changed Narnia. That it would be better to return home, here in our world, and relive our memories of the Old Narnia, our home, rather than live in this New Narnia, only to be continuously reminded of the many differences and changes, always comparing the New with the Old… and finding it wanting… finding it empty… finding it unbearable to the point of despair and the crushing weight of grief overwhelms you. So, when the time comes for you to leave, you take it, because it would be better to be somewhere else and dream of our Old Narnia, rather than be here in an entirely different Narnia… and feeling empty. And do you know something? You don't regret it one bit, leaving Narnia the second time; it's having had left the first time that's putting you through so much pain and grief and _longing_."

Susan heard her brother's voice catch in his throat, and waver, and instead of hearing his voice, she hears the voice of Narnia — their Narnia — speaking in that grief-stricken tone in her mind's eye, surreal and haunting. Calling out to them with that same _longing_ and _hoping_ and _knowing_ in her voice, her eyes _pleading, begging_ for them to return to her, their names echoing throughout time and space and dimension to them in the real world.

"Come back, Dear Children! Return to me! Where _are_ you? Come home! Come home! I need you here… I need you safe… I need you present… I am lost without you by my side."

That image in her mind's eye broke the dam, and, once again, tears streamed down her face — and there was no more fight left in her to stop them. She gasped as she collided into Peter's waiting arms, heaving sobs as she finally succumbed to the grief that had been long delayed in coming. Peter took her into himself and held her close, rubbing her back and soothing words that Susan couldn't comprehend in her distressed state. But it didn't matter, he was here for her, comforting her like he always did, as they had done in those bygone days.

She wept and she wept, though still conscious enough to keep from attracting unwanted company. This was an intimate moment between only her and her brother. No one else.

Finally, her sobs abated, and she became more calm, as she heard him humming an old Narnian lullaby to her as he gave her much-needed comfort. It made her feel better, and, for a brief moment, she imagined herself to be someplace else: at Cair Paravel, in their bedroom chambers, with her siblings and her snuggled together in Peter's bed after not being able to sleep, and Peter humming-cum-singing the lullaby to them, causing them to surrender to blissful sleep, one-by-one, before falling asleep himself.

Those were the days.

When she opened her eyes, and looked up, she saw him looking at her, a question in his eyes.

She smiled, a _real, genuine_ smile. "Thank you, Pete. I needed that."

Peter smiled. "Anything for my Queen."

That earned him a chuckle and a playful slap on the shoulder. "I'm not your Queen."

Peter pondered a beat, before nodding in agreement. "That is true — you're _Our_ Queen. There _are_ four of us, you know."

She snorted. "As if they'd ever let us forget it!" they both laughed. Her face fell, a feeling of guilt tugging her. "I wish dreadfully that they could've come with us," she said, after a moment. "They so wanted to come to America with us." and then, after a beat, she added, "I miss them."

The older blond boy nodded, his smile wry. "I do, too. It's not really the same without them here, is it?"

"No. It's not. They would've loved America."

"They would've." his expression turned thoughtful, before giving her a look of determination. "Then we have only but one choice…" at her questioning look, he added, "we must live in these moments for the four of us, for the rest of our stay here. What do you say? Are you game?"

Susan gave a cheeky smile of her own. "So long as we don't have to play hide-and-seek."

That earned her a snort from her brother, which made her heart feel lighter. "Agreed. No hide-and-seek. Which leaves us with our only option: go to the party tonight. That is why you enjoy going to these parties, right? Wearing these gowns and stockings? Because they're the closest you can come to the real Narnia — in the days when _you_ were the one who hosted these parties and were the Queen wearing attire much more elegant than what we have now. To get lost in yourself and imagine the people and the room being the ballroom of Cair Paravel, and that everything is as it was… if only for a short while."

For quite possibly the fifth time that night, Susan was all astonishment, regarded her brother as if seeing him for the first time. "How did you guess?"

"I _am_ your brother, after all. I've known you my whole life — plus fifteen years, give or take. I have an enormous advantage." he then leaned towards her. "And I've lately been keeping an eye on you."

Her eyebrows rose up at that, a blush threatening to bloom on her cheeks. "For shame, Peter! I don't need to be babysat! I'm not 5, you know."

"I was worried about you. Ever since we came back and you closed up. I knew you were processing everything, so I kept my distance. But you should've confided in me… or Edmund, at least. We were all worried about you."

Guilt gnawed at her again, and she looked away. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Peter hugged her again. "Now you do. Please don't shut us out again. Or else a day may come where you need us, and we won't be around to help you."

Susan sniffed. "I know. Thank you." she then looked at his slightly damp and crinkled dress shirt self-consciously. She tried drying it with her hand. "Oh dear. I've gone and ruined your suit."

Peter chuckled. "It's fine. Though it's nothing compared to what _you_ look like."

A look of panic crossed her face and she turned to look at the mirror, only for her reflection to come back looking shocked as she took in the extent of the damage her emotional state had caused: red eyes, ruined mascara and makeup, stained with her recent blubbing. She took her kerchief and blew on it, and wiping the evidence of any tears… at the expense of the makeup.

"Oh dear! And it look me ages to get this done right!" she lamented, her hand bearing the weight of her head in despair. "Aunt and Uncle must be waiting for us now!"

As if summoned, a knock was heard from the door. It was the butler. "Miss Susan, Master Peter!" he called from the door. "Your Aunt and Uncle are expecting you! Your ride will be here soon. Are you ready yet?"

Before Susan could reply, Peter placed a hand on her shoulder, silencing her. "Not yet, Thomas! Tell them that we'll be down shortly. Give us a few, will you?"

"Very well, Master Peter." the sound of footsteps could be heard fading until he was gone.

Peter turned to her. "Well now, let us get to work, shall we? We can't be running late now!" he made a move for the makeup.

But her hand intercepted his. "I'll do it myself, thank you." she protested, sounding more than ever the Queen she once was. "You'll only muck it up."

Peter pouted. "I've done your makeup before… lots of times, back in Narnia."

Susan gave him a look. "Horribly, as I recall. I looked like a blushing doll smudged in dirt!"

He gave her an indignant look. "It wasn't _that_ bad! I did your braids and you're eyeliner well, at least. The rest of it was… confusing."

Susan snorted. "I'd say you were." but she relented. "So long as you do my eyeliner, as you'll do it much better and thoroughly than I ever could, then I shall be satisfied. But _nothing else_!" Peter nodded.

By the time they were done reapplying her makeup (which was light since she honestly didn't need too much), five minutes had passed. She looked herself in the mirror again and hummed with approval. "Not bad, Pete." then the dig. "For a boy."

Peter rolled his eyes and stood up, also looking at the mirror and making sure he was presentable. He then lent her a hand, which she gladly accepted, and they looked at each other with smiles on their faces.

"You look beautiful. As always."

Susan flushed self-consciously. "Thank you. You yourself look beautiful, too." she added, a cheeky glint in her eyes.

Peter didn't miss a beat. "Why, thank you, Milady. I do cut quite the dashing figure, don't I?"

The Gentle Queen huffed. "Like a duck."

"Ah, a Mallard. An excellent choice, Sister! You do know your birds."

"I always found _you_ to be the expert on the subject — Being 'of the clear, Northern sky' and all that."

Peter chuckled. "Touché."

A knock interrupted any further discourse. "Sir! Miss! The car is waiting for you outside. Have you finished?"

"We'll be right down, Thomas."

"Yes, sir."

Peter cocked his head towards his raven-haired sister. "It would seem, Dear Sister, that our carriage awaits. Shall we join them?"

Picking up on the Royal Tongue, she slipped into it like a glove. "Indeed we shall, Lord Brother. But on one condition."

"Oh?" Peter raised a noble eyebrow, every inch the High King. "And name your terms, Fair Sister, for it shall be yours."

"I claim you for the first two dances at the gala!" she gave him a winning smile. "What say you, Brother Mine?"

Peter beamed. "I accept those terms unconditionally, My Lady." he gave a courtly bow, before grabbing her hand and kissing it gallantly. "How can I ever say no to the Queen of Narnia?"

Susan giggled and gave a deep curtsy. "My many thanks, High King. This night now promises to be a good one."

"I aim to please, Sister." Peter opened the door, and Susan, carrying her purse, passed through with a grateful look and a passing, "Good to know that chivalry isn't dead."

With the door closed, the eldest Pevensie turned to look at his best friend and sister, smiled, and proffered his arm to her. "Shall we, my Queen?"

His answer was her hand, as gentle and slender as its owner, slid within the crook of his arm without hesitation. A perfect fit… as if they never left. And, for a moment, the vision of an older, strapping King with a beard and shoulder-length hair, and an older, beautiful Queen with hair that reached to her ankles, came into view, and the interior of the house became that of Cair Paravel.

"Lead the way, my King. I'm with you."

And then, as one, Peter Pevensie and Susan Pevensie strode down the hallway and walked down the steps as High King and High Queen of Narnia — as they once were, as they still are, and as they will still be — and stunning the onlookers with a sense of awed surprise at the sudden air of maturity in their air.

As they made their way to the car waiting to take them to the party, Susan, for a brief moment, thought she could hear a Lion's roar… and someone whispering something, but shook it off in her excitement.

But had she stood still, and listened carefully, she would've heard a feminine voice, ancient and maternal — that of Narnia — speak the words said to them, many, many Ages ago:

_"Once a King or Queen of Narnia, **always** a King or Queen."_


End file.
